“I tried to warn you,” Carrie said softly, holding onto his arm. “She’ll choose Dzaka as her life-mate, Kusac.”
“I think you’re right,” he said, reaching up to stroke Kashini’s back as the cub began to squirm and mewl at the interruption of their walk.
Kitra looked up and waved happily at them.
“You know,” said Carrie, beginning to move again, “in years to come, I can tease Dzaka about that evening when Rhyasha and I railroaded him into becoming Kitra’s first lover. I think we knew even then that they were right for each other.”
“Female’s intuition?” asked Kusac. “Pity it didn’t work for you! I remember my first attempts at persuading you to accept me!”
“That was different,” she said primly as they walked down the tunnel and out into the winter sunshine. “We were the first, and you were a different species.”
“But you loved me, right from the earliest days, you loved me.”
“Did I? I suppose I must have.”
“Yes, you did. I know you did,” he insisted, catching her arm again and stopping. “I felt it.”
“Then I suppose you must be right,” she said, maintaining her unconcerned air.
“You, cub, are a tease,” he said, pulling her into an embrace.
Kashini immediately began to purr with delight, and leaning down, wrapped her tiny arms round her mother’s neck.
Carrie laughed, kissing both of them before slipping quickly out of their embraces. She skipped a few paces down the path, still laughing at them. “A female’s got to have her secrets!” She turned and headed for the waiting aircar. “Come on, Jack and Jiszoe are holding second meal for us and Jiszoe says he’s starving!”
*
Ghyakulla’s shrine at the Retreat was, as Lijou said, very different, yet it had its own beauty. Like its sister, it lay within the heart of the mountain.
The air in the cavern was warm, heated by nearby underground streams of hot water that, their warmth lost to the mountain, finally emerged in the plain below. Lighting had been installed, but it was sparing and diffuse, in keeping with the ambience of the shrine.
Columns of naturally shaped rock, their surfaces covered with growths of subterranean molds and fungii, stretched upward for thirty meters. As he walked beside Guardian Dhaika, Kaid found himself wondering why both Stronghold and Vartra’s Retreat should have shrines to the Goddess that cast the one in Her own temple into the shade.
“These existed before it was possible to rebuild the plainslands,” said Dhaika. “When the floods subsided, it was decided it would be better to move the Goddess’ temple to the lowlands to make her accessible to more of her people. And, of course, the buildings you mention already belonged to Vartra.”
Kaid stopped short, a little startled at the Guardian’s ability to pick him up.
Resting his hand on Kaid’s forearm, Dhaika drew him on toward the altar. Though aware of the paintings that covered the sides, Kaid saw only the statue of the Goddess that adorned the top. In Her arms She held a male cub scarcely older than Kashini. A kitling, feet within the protective curl of the Goddess’ tail, leaned against Her, looking up into Her face. In front of Her crouched an older child, its attention wholly captivated by a small animal.
Kaid walked up to the montage, reaching out to touch the carving of the cub. The bodies of the Goddess and Her children were of natural stone, but touches of color had been added so that the eyes seemed about to blink, the hair, ruffled by an unseen breeze, about to lie flat again. He let his hand slide away from the cub, looking at the creature the youngling was trying to attract. It was a jegget, its sable-tipped cream pelt rendered in vibrant, living colors which contrasted with the cool warmth of the stone people.
“I had no idea this place existed,” said Kaid, turning away from the sculpture. “Why? Why this, here?”
“It’s said this is Vartra’s Shrine to His Mother, and in light of recent events, who can deny the possibility of it being the truth? It’s never been a public part of the Retreat, more a place where those who feel they’ve been called by the Goddess come to talk to Her. Only the older acolytesâ they’re priests now, of courseâ of Ghyakulla come here regularly. And myself.”
Kaid raised a quizzical eye ridge.
“Ghyakulla is the Mother of all living things,” said Dhaika enigmatically. “Shall we begin?”
Prayer mats had been set out for them, and as Kaid arranged himself comfortably on one, Dhaika began to send to him.
This is similar to a meditation session. Focus on the brazier to the left of the altar, then recite your litanies as usual. When you’re in a light trance, I’ll guide you to the realm of the Goddess.
Kaid found it took longer than usual for him to relax. When finally he was floating within the familiar gray mist, he didn’t at first realize that he was listening to the Guardian’s instructions. Almost imperceptibly, the haze was parting, leaving him suspended in a darkness as black as night. Curiously he looked about him, gradually realizing that the darkness wasn’t complete and that around him he could see ribbons of light flickering and shimmering as they streaked past him. As he concentrated on them, the colors brightened till he could pick out a gold one here, a blue one there. If the trails left by shuttles could be seen, then surely they would look like this, he thought. Then he realized that one of them was approaching him.
Like a river in spate, it rushed toward him, growing larger and larger. A green light shot through with coruscating silver filaments engulfed him, sweeping him up and bearing him irresistibly onward. Strangely, he felt no fear, only intense curiosity. Within his mind, he could hear the Guardian telling him that all was as it should be.
Ahead of him, as if at the end of a tunnel, he could see a brilliant white light. He knew that it was toward this he was being taken. The sensation of movement slowed until, without warning, he found himself deposited before a gateway. A wooden door, flanked by the boles of two enormous trees, barred his way. Abruptly, the presence that was Guardian Dhaika was gone, and he was alone.
This isn’t real, it’s a hallucination, he told himself. A trip to the realms of the spirit. He reached out to touch the door.
“It’s damned solid for an illusion,” he murmured as he looked for some handle or catch with which to open it.
There was nothing, save for a carving in the center which looked hauntingly familiar. He passed his hand over it, letting his fingers trace their way across the triple spirals within which was set a blue-white crystal.
As he touched the stone, the door swung slowly open to reveal a forest within. He hesitated, knowing he was expected to enter, but reluctant to commit himself.
Pushing his fears aside, he stepped through, instantly turning back to check on the door. There was nothing, only the forest. He sniffed, breathing in the rich, humid air of summer. He knew immediately which way to go; someone had left a trail. It was nothing he could identify, but it was different, it demanded to be followed. Within a few paces, he found himself on a narrow track heading in the same direction.
At a steady lope, he followed the trail, noticing that as the forest began to thin, the path widened. Suddenly the cool greenness was behind him and ahead lay an open clearing. Overhead, the sun blazed down from a summer sky. Dazzled, he put his hands to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the glare. The tang of wood smoke hung in the air, and up ahead, he could hear the sound of a grindstone.
Slowly the scene in front of him began to resolve itself. At the far edge of the clearing stood a rustic house, smoke coiling lazily upward from the single chimney. Against one side was an open lean-to. Within it a figure, back turned to him, was working. The sound of metal being drawn across stone filled the air and every now and then a shower of sparks would light up the dim interior.
Kaid frowned. This was unlike anything he could imagine being associated with the Green Goddess. Curious, he began to cross the clearing.
As he drew close, the noise stopped, and the fi
gure turned to meet him. “I knew you could make the journey.”
“You!” said Kaid angrily, fists clenching at his sides as he stopped. “You dared to use the Goddess to bring me here!”
*
A voice was calling him, he realized. He ought to answer. Concentrating, he focused on the brightness of the distant flame, making it come closer until all he could see was its golden glow. Beyond it, he knew, lay the other side of reality, and Guardian Dhaika. It was only a small step, then he was blinking and pushing himself up stiffly into a sitting position.
“I was concerned,” said the Guardian, sitting back on his haunches. “You were gone for some time.”
“It was Vartra, not the Green Goddess, who called me.” He felt tired, and still not wholly of this world.
“Vartra?” Dhaika was shocked.
Kaid got to his feet, rearranging his robe before slipping his hands within the opposite sleeves. “I must return to Stronghold, Guardian Dhaika. Vartra has work for me.”
*
Gary Davies was eating breakfast in the lounge with Kris and Zashou when they heard the guards outside their chambers thump their spears on the ground in a salute to their Lord.
“A bit early for them,” murmured Davies, setting down his tankard of ale. “Wonder what they want.”
The door opened to admit Lord Killian accompanied by Belamor and an irate Taradain.
“My son has reminded me that your continued safety is my concern,” said Killian, moving further into the room. “With the coming of spring, those of us foolish enough not to wear our talismans all year round bring them to Belamor to have their protective spell renewed. You can’t, therefore Belamor has brought them to you.” He beckoned his mage forward. “Get on with it, Belamor. Do your magic, then we can all carry on with our work.”
As the mage came toward their table, Davies watched Taradain’s eyes search the chamber for Jo.
“They’re not all here,” the youth said abruptly. “I have a special talisman for Jo.”
Belamor paused in opening the silk-wrapped parcel he had laid on the table. “A special one? And where did you get that?” he asked, his voice sharp with sarcasm. “From some hedge wizard in the town? Some drunken sot who peddles his skills in the inns for ale?”
Killian looked at his son, who began to flush an unbecoming color. “Give it to me,” he commanded, holding out his hand. “Special, eh? Let me guess. You’ve had it made into a love charm. Lust would be more like it!”
“Do you think I’d risk her life for that?” countered the youth.
“You risk it by giving her a Demon talisman made by an amateur,” said Belamor, returning to his parcel. He drew back the final wrapping to reveal five metal disks on leather thongs. Set within the center of each was a green stone.
“Give me the talisman.” There was a hard edge to Killian’s voice this time. “We’ll let her choose which one she wants. Where is the wench anyway?” he asked Kris.
“Sleeping,” he replied shortly.
“I need them all here,” said Belamor. “Each talisman must be keyed to the wearer.”
Davies wished for the millionth time that he had enough telepathic abilities to be able to mind-speak on even the most basic levelâ hell, to even be aware of the gist of what his friends were saying!
“Your furry friend, where’s he?” demanded Killian, looking at Zashou.
“Sleeping,” she replied.
Killian began to chuckle as he turned to his son. “Seems like she’s made her choice, lad! She prefers the male creature to a boy like you!”
Taradain stiffened, his face contorted with anger. “That’s a lie! She’d have nothing to do with him!” He ran to the table, grabbing Kris by the arm. “Tell him it’s a lie!”
Kris looked away from him, his eyes catching Davies’. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say.
“Our people, we depend on each other,” said Davies, thinking rapidly. He had to defuse the situation now before it got out of hand. “There’s a physical need for each otherâ males to females, females to males. Without it we die.”
“You’re lying! She couldn’t! It’s not true!”
“It’s true,” said Zashou, reaching out to touch him. “We’re different, alien… not from your world. She only looks like your people.”
Taradain pulled away from them, looking toward the two bedroom doors. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Which room?”
“Leave it, boy. You’re making an even bigger fool of yourself than you already have,” laughed Killian. “I told you to leave her alone from the first! Maybe next time you’ll listen to me!”
“Don’t disturb them,” began Kris, getting to his feet as Taradain headed toward one of the bedrooms. “There’s no need. We aren’t lying.”
“Shut up!” snarled the youth, breaking into a run. Reaching the door, he flung it wide open, standing there a moment before heading toward the other room.
Davies got up, looking toward Killian. “Is this necessary?”
“He won’t believe you till he’s seen for himself,” said the Lord, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Maybe this’ll rid him once and for all of his damned fool romantic notions!”
Taradain wrenched the door open. For a moment he stood there, then, as an enraged snarl came from within, he spun on his heel and ran from the chamber.
Killian pulled a chair out from the worktable and sat down, his ample bulk shaking with mirth.
Moments later, Rezac, his tunic held around himself, came into the room. He closed the door behind him. “Dammit, why the hell didn’t one of you stop him? We’re entitled to privacy! Jo’s as twitchy as hell as it is without this!”
Killian’s laughter didn’t diminish, in fact it increased. He waved a limp hand in Belamor’s direction. “Get on with it,” he managed to say at last. “I owe you a favor,” he said to Rezac. “You can have your fresh air. My son has needed something like this for some time now. Maybe this’ll finally make a man of him!”
“Leave it, Rezac,” said Davies in Sholan, making a warning gesture.
Belamor threw Killian an angry look. “I can’t work in these conditions,” he snapped. “Either curtail your mirth or leave!”
As the Lord began to cough, Davies decided it would be a good move to take him a drink. Picking up his own tankard, he stepped over and handed it to him. Gratefully Killian accepted it, downing the contents in one gulp.
“So you have a dependence on each other,” he said, handing him the empty tankard. “It’s as well I housed you all together, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed,” said Davies, aware of the implied threat. “However, if you hadn’t, we would have told you.”
“I need the woman as well,” said Belamor, picking up the first of the pendants.
As he returned to his seat, Davies saw Zashou stiffen, a look of fear frozen on her face. At the same moment, he heard a small sound of anger, quickly stifled, from Rezac.
“You,” Belamor commanded, beckoning to Kris.
Davies watched as Kris got up and came round the table. Belamor fastened the pendant round his neck, then placed his hand over where it lay against the Human’s chest. Closing his eyes, Belamor began to chant in a low, monotonous voice. After a few moments, he removed his hand and sketched a few symbols in the air. They were too fast for Davies to follow, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that they probably wouldn’t have made sense to him anyway. They might be able speak the local language, but they’d never seen it written.
Belamor dismissed Kris and beckoned to Zashou. With stiff, jerky movements, the Sholan female came to the mage’s side.
“I want the other female,” he reminded Killian before repeating the procedure with Zashou.
“Fetch her,” Killian ordered Rezac.
The Sholan turned angrily and left the room, returning a couple of minutes later with Jo, now fully clothed. Davies was surprised when, eyes to the floor, she headed straight for him. He moved over, le
aving her enough room to sit beside him. Putting his arm around her waist, he leaned toward her.
“When this bloke’s done his stuff, go back to Rezac,” he said quietly in Sholan.
“I can’t,” she whispered, turning a panic-stricken face to him.
“Do it,” he ordered. “If you don’t, you’ll only be hurting yourselves. Give this Link a chance, Jo. You both deserve that. If you won’t go, I’ll take you!” He put on a grim face hoping to make her smile.
It did. “You wouldn’t.”
“Watch me,” he said, in a fair imitation of a Sholan growl.
“I said you,” said Belamor, tapping him sharply on the shoulder.
*
When Belamor and Killian left, Rezac tore off his pendant and flung it the length of the room, then turned and grasped hold of Jo’s, about to do the same.
She put her hand over it to stop him. “Why? It’s time you told us what these are.”
“The Valtegans used these stones to control their slaves,” he said. “When you found us, the collars we were wearing were slave collars.”
“They were part of a device that let them know if we used our telepathic abilities,” said Zashou, reaching up to untie hers. “Then they’d punish us with pain.” She shuddered as she put it on the table and pushed it away from her.
“They aren’t part of a device now,” Davies pointed out. “Why would the Jalnians have Valtegan stones? What are they using them for?”
“Talismans,” said Kris, picking up Zashou’s to examine it. “Did the rest of you feel Belamor touch your minds?”
A chorus of assentsâ except from Garyâ answered him.
“Psi powers on a world that believes in magic,” he said thoughtfully, holding it up to the window to look through it. “Where do the stones come from?”
“A plant. It’s the hardened sap, kind of like a resinous substance,” replied Rezac, hovering near Jo. “They called it laalquoi. They grow it on all their worlds. They were farming it on Shola in our time.”
razorsedge Page 47
